Chatoyance
by boxerboo
Summary: Chatoyance: having a changable luster: varying in colour when seen in different light or from different angles. Another of my stories featuring the 12th Doctor's companion, Kim Gideon. Or is it ? COMPLETE in 4 chapters.
1. Green Screen

Chatoyance: Chapter 1: _Green Screen_

She didn't want to die.

A year ago Kim Gideon wouldn't have cared less and had even decided that if fate wasn't going to be proactive in the matter then perhaps she would lend a hand. But of course, fate _had_ nodded in her direction. Just in the nick of time the Doctor had entered her life, whisking her away from the darkness in her mind.

So, as she stood in front of the Sontaran firing squad, Kim's insides turned to water and she trembled against her restraining bonds. The Doctor stood next to her, grim-faced. They were each strapped to a pole in front of a wall, their hands behind their backs.

Half of her toyed with the idea that the Doctor was going to produce some sort of miracle. 'With one bound, they were free', kind of thing. But the look on his face told a different story.

They were on the planet Quillan. A world described by the Doctor as a pastoral haven. Somewhere they could go to relax after their narrow escape from the Warsaw Uprising of 1944. The Doctor had described the peaceful Quillan natives – the Quib – as a unique humanoid-mollusc hybrid. They carried an exo-skeleton on their backs which they retired into for sleep. The Quib were peaceful, friendly and the Doctor had always wanted to visit them.

Well, the Quib may have been all that but the Tardis arrived on Quillan to find a world under the jackboot of Sontaran domination. Half the native population had been slaughtered and the other half toiled until they dropped, slaves of the Sontaran Empire.

Bit by bit the planet was being gutted, its forests devastated and natural resources pillaged by the invaders. Great industrial complexes sprang up as the landscape became a sea of grey.

The Doctor had been initially convinced that they had landed on the wrong world and had led Kim on a brief reconnaissance to prove his theory. They had narrowly avoided two Sontaran patrols and had scrambled back to the Tardis just in time to see it being hauled off by a third.

The place was swarming with them. Kim had met the Sontarans once before. It had been then that she had discovered her complete inability to say the word 'Sontaran'. A kind of mental block that rendered the word '_Snot_aran' as her best effort. She had thereafter christened them 'The Snots', much to the Doctor's amusement.

But there was nothing amusing about the Sontarans on Quillan. These were front-line. Brutal, militaristic, potato-faced Nazis.

Kim and the Doctor had been caught trying to break into a military compound where the Tardis was being held. Arraigned as possible Rutan spies they were interrogated as such. But when the Doctor stubbornly refused to give them access to his ship, they were subjected to a kangaroo-court and sentenced to death in short-order.

Thus they stood in the courtyard of a huge Sontaran compound, just as the Quillan sun began to set, casting long, ominous shadows.

A Sontaran officer, Stigg by name, began to read formally from a scroll of paper.

" You are guilty of crimes against the Sontaran Empire, including sedition and espionage. We are gathered for your lawful execution under Section 3 of the Emergency Powers Act..."

The Doctor half-leaned over towards Kim. "I'm sorry, Kim," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "I couldn't just let them have the Tardis. With that technology..."

He was interrupted by Stigg's heavy approaching footsteps. The back of a gauntletted hand smashed across the Doctor's face, knocking his head sideways. A trickle of blood seeped at the corner of his mouth.

"Vermin!" hissed the Sontaran. "Die in silence. With dignity..."

""Pig!" shouted Kim, hotly. "Coward!"

She braced herself as Stigg raised his hand against her.

"Stigg!" The voice echoed across the courtyard. The blow was stilled.

Major Stoxx, the Sontaran regional Commander, marched across to them. "What is the meaning of this?"

Stigg, standing stiffly at attention, saluted. "The prisoners defiled the protocol of execution. They broke the silence of the doomed, Major."

Stoxx licked his lips. "What did you expect from such filth? Let us not waste any more time and energy on them."

The two Sontarans stood to one side.

"Firing squad, "barked Stoxx. "Make ready !"

The four troopers comprising the firing squad levelled their blasters; two on the Doctor and two on Kim.

Kim closed her eyes, tried to be brave. But as Stoxx ordered 'Fire!" she screamed like she had never screamed before in her life.

"CUT!" A voice out of nowhere. "OK, everybody! That's a wrap! See you Monday."

Somewhere a bell rang, janglingly loud.

"Jesus Christ! You might have warned me!"

Kim turned her head to one side. The Doctor was wiggling a finger in his left ear and shaking his head. He had stepped away from the pole, his bindings hanging limp behind him.

He looked at Kim angrily. "I've got to be on stage in an hour. I'm half bloody deaf!"

With goggling eyes Kim looked around her. The Sontaran compound had vanished, replaced by a huge plain green screen, hanging from pulleys. The four Sontarans of the firing squad had removed their dome-like helmets to reveal very human faces. They exchanged a few remarks with each other and began to drift off.

Major Stoxx was chatting to a young woman with headphones.

"Wardrobe!" called the Doctor.

A young pretty girl appeared at his side. "Yes, Mr Eastman?"

The Doctor stripped off his duffle coat and tossed it to the girl. "I'm sure that thing is infested with something. I'm itching like mad. Get it fumigated or something before Monday."

"OK, Mr Eastman."

The Doctor wriggled his finger in his ear again. "In future, "he said to Kim, "let me know. That's all I ask! Right?" He stalked away, out of Kim's eyeline.

A man with a clipboard approached Kim, smiling. "Never mind old sourpuss," he said. "That scream was fantastic, Amanda. You really nailed it! I'm sure we'll keep it in." He cocked his head at her. "You don't need to stand there like that any more, love."

Kim stepped away from the pole and looked around her at the rapidly emptying studio. Her unblinking eyes flicked from the empty green screen to the arc lamps and the catwalks and the cameras.

She swallowed hard.

Her mind was numb and empty, except for a single thought that burned like neon, elbowing everything else out of her head.

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?

(End of Chapter 1)


	2. Amanda Clay

Chatoyance: Chapter 2: _Amanda Clay_

**BBC1 7.00 – 7.45 **

**DR WHO  
**11/13 :Secret of the Quib  
by Hugh Guest

The Sontarans are back!  
What is the secret of the planet Quillan and its peaceful inhabitants, the snail-like Quib?  
The Doctor and Kim arrive to find a world invaded.  
But what are the Sontarans after?

Cast

The Doctor.......Alan Eastman  
Kim Gideon.......Amanda Clay  
Major Stoxx......Vaughn Phillips  
Stigg................ Ian Michaels  
The Predatrix....Robina Knight  
Louise...............Eve Parsons  
Young Kim.........Pattie Taylor-Ross  
Sontarans.........Andy Mac, Dave Lee,  
Simon Tusker, Alfie Davies  
Quib..................Jenny Falls, Mick Daly

Designer: Steve Meek  
Music: Ronnie Bronze  
Director: Ken Fordham  
Producer:Jennie Bertram  
Executive Producer: Mike Aster

_A BBC Wales Production  
__(Special Feature on page 11)_

_._

Kim Gideon sat hunched at the little dressing table.

For someone who had studiously avoided mirrors all her life, she had stared into this one for an inordinately long time. Ever since Tina, the wardrobe girl, had guided her here from the deserted studio, in fact.

It was HER face, for God's sake! Her dark hair cut into a bob; her nose with the slight crook in it (courtesy of a school hockey stick); her mouth and eyes...

She looked at the TV magazine again.

_Kim Gideon......Amanda Clay _

That's what Tina had called her. "Are you OK, Miss Clay? You look a bit pale, Miss Clay. Come on, I'll help you back to your dressing room, Miss Clay..."

_Miss Clay...Miss Clay...Miss Clay..!_

Kim thought back to the Sontaran firing squad.

Maybe she was dead ! Is this what it's like?

Maybe it was just a dream. It didn't feel like a dream...

Her head throbbed. She took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. Tried to slow her breathing and calm down, when in actuality she felt like running around in circles until the men in white coats came for her.

As she went to put her glasses back on she paused, frowning. Normally she was as blind as a bat without them. She put them on and took them off again. There was no change in her vision. After a few moments spent examining the lenses Kim realised that they were just plain glass. It was a prop.

Even more frightened, Kim stared at the mirror again and noticed a stray hair high on her forehead. A fair hair. She reached up to it and her dark bob came away in her hands. She dropped the wig alongside the glasses, onto the dressing table. Luscious blond hair spilled out onto her shoulders.

Kim stared unblinking at the stranger in front of her.

There was a knock at the dressing-room door.

"Amanda? Amanda? Are you OK? Can we come in? It's Jennie and Mike." A woman's voice.

Jennie and Mike? Who the - ?

The door opened and framed two people.

Jennie was dressed in a dark trouser-suit and her hair was gathered up in a severe bun. Mike had silvery, floppy hair, a pale grey suit and accountant's glasses.

Kim glanced at the TV magazine again.

_Producer: Jennie Bertram.  
Executive Producer: Mike Aster._

Yes, they fitted the bill.

"Tina from Wardrobe caught us in the car park," said Mike, anxiously. "She said she thought you might be ill or something."

"Are you all right, Amanda?" asked Jennie.

NO I'M NOT ALRIGHT, YOU SILLY TART! AND STOP CALLING ME AMANDA !

But, of course, she didn't say it.

Jennie and Mike exchanged worried looks.

"Get changed, 'Mand," said Mike. "Meet me at the main entrance in fifteen minutes. I'll drop you off at your flat. It's on my way."

With that the door shut and they had gone.

Kim blinked around the little dressing room. She felt a sudden claustrophobia pressing down on her. If she could, she would have run out of her own skin. But just getting outside would have to do.

Mike was waiting for her as promised, in his flashy red sports car. She had only found the main entrance to the building after a few false starts. Kim had thrown on a sweatshirt and leggings that she had found hanging in the dressing room. They fitted perfectly, of course. She topped it off with a crotched beret and a long, light coat.

Kim go into the passenger seat and they roared off through the dark, drizzly Cardiff streets.

It was a short journey, barely ten minutes before they pulled up outside a tall Victorian building.

Mike turned to her. "I've arranged for a car to pick you up tomorrow at 10.30 in the morning. Will that be OK?"

"Car?" It was the first word she had spoken. Since...

"Yes. You know. For the Convention at Bristol University. Thanks ever so, for standing in at the last minute. Trust Alan to pull out. Anybody would think he was playing Lear himself, rather than just a supporting role. He's a complete berk. I'll be glad when he's off the show."

Mike started the engine. "Make sure you get a good night's sleep, Kiddo. It's been a long week. Don't forget to set the alarm. See you tomorrow!"

Kim watched him drive away into the night.

She mounted the short flight of steps up to the entrance of the big house. It was clearly divided into flats and she found an intercom switch for the third floor with a little card that read 'CLAY'.

As she wondered what to do she patted her coat pockets and found a set of keys. She was not surprised to find that one fitted the main door and she stepped inside.

Kim climbed the three fights on creaky stairs and opened the door to the third floor attic-flat.

Putting on the lights she found herself in a neat apartment with the normal signs of habitation. Framed photographs of people she didn't recognise, some unopened post, a few memo stickers dotted about. The usual stuff.

The bedroom was small and minimalist but the bed looked inviting. Kim threw her beret and coat onto a chair, kicked off her shoes and fell onto the soft mattress.

She stared at the ceiling and felt another panic surge begin. She fought it back with her deep-breathing techniques.

I'll sort this out, she thought. I'll go through all the drawers, all the wardrobes and cabinets and find out what's what.

Tomorrow...

A deep fatigue pulled at her. Kim could have been forgiven if she had screamed out in her frustration and despair. But when the words came they were quiet; intense but quiet.

"Doctor...help me !"

There was no answer.

Kim entered that pre-sleep state where thoughts become randomised.

_The Thamesford library...The impossible Police Box...the man with the crazy Morphing T shirt...her destiny..._.

Then, frighteningly, they became dark.

_Men in uniform...smoke and flames...people screaming...a blinding light..._

Thankfully, sleep came for her.

.

She awoke with a start. Light was streaming through the window and the little clock by the bed read 10.00.

Christ! The car would be here in half an hour. She had slept right through!

In the next thirty minutes she managed to shower, do her hair, slap on a bit of make-up and lippie, go to the loo and throw on a selection of clothes.

She was eating a bowl of corn flakes when the intercom buzzed.

"Yes?" she said, through a mouthful of cereal.

"Your car for Bristol University," said the disembodied voice.

"Thanks. Give me a couple of minutes."

She finished her breakfast quickly, threw on a coat and rushed downstairs two at a time.

The driver was waiting for her by the front door. "Bristol University?" he asked.

"That's right," she said breezily. "I'm Amanda Clay."

(End of Chapter 2)


	3. The Con

Chatoyance: Chapter 3: _The Con_

Amanda stood in the wings of the small stage and peeked out into the auditorium.

The five-hundred seats were packed. She couldn't see a single empty one and indeed, there were a few people standing at the back.

There was a range of ages in the audience but the most striking thing was the variety and eccentricity of the way they dressed.

A multitude of duffle coats, as was to be expected. But there was also a profusion of long, multi-coloured scarves, striped cricketing flannels, sprigs of celery, tweedy jackets complete with elbow-patches and a forest of bow ties.

A trickle of sweat broke out on the back of Amanda's neck. It was ridiculous really. She was RADA trained; a twice Bafta-nominated actress. She had performed in the West End and auditioned for some of the biggest names in Hollywood. But still the old anxiety twinge kicked in.

Handling a convention audience at Bristol University should really be a piece of cake but out there were five hundred devoted fanatics. And all of them , each one, knew a great deal more about 'Dr Who' than she did!

"Don't worry," whispered Mike behind her. "If you get stuck I'll feed you a line. I'm an old hand at this."

"Thanks."

On stage the young MC was tapping his microphone. The chatter amongst the audience subsided.

"Now we come to the era of the twelfth Doctor. We kick off with a discussion panel featuring four members of the current production team. Now as you know, we were originally hoping to have the Doctor himself, Alan Eastman. Unfortunately he can't be with us as he is currently on stage in 'King Lear' at the Cardiff Emporium."

There was a groan from the audience and even a boo or two. The MC looked sheepish.

"Mr Eastman asked me to extend his profound apologies and let you know that he is gutted not to be here. He is in the play for another six weeks and he tells me and there is a 20% discount on matinee ticket prices if you show your souvenir convention program."

Typical Alan Eastman, thought Amanda.

"Firstly I would like to introduce the show's casting director, Bill Yelling".

With a smattering of applause a bald man in a crumpled grey suit entered from the opposite wing and sat on one of the four empty chairs facing the audience.

"Next, the series script editor, Dan Pearce." Rather louder applause as the script editor (woolly cardigan), took his seat.

"Now for the boss himself. Numero Uno. The show runner. Executive Producer, Mr Mike Aster ! "

Mike pushed past Amanda and switched on a beaming smile as he strode out to generous, prolonged applause and a few flashing lightbulbs.

"And finally...well this is where I would have introduced the Doctor himself...but we've got the next best thing. Arranged at short notice, but we're delighted to have her here all the same...none other than Kim Gideon herself...AMANDA CLAY!"

His last words were swallowed up by thunderous applause, cheering and several screams as Amanda emerged to a whiteout of flash photography.

She waved to the audience before seating herself with her fellow panellists.

Mike leaned over to Amanda as the hullabaloo continued. "Bloody nutters, all of them." he whispered through his fixed smile.

The ninety minute ordeal began with the MC asking the panellists a few individual questions. The casting director explained how he came to cast Alan Eastman, Amanda and he name-dropped several well-known performers; the script editor explained his role in some (boring) detail, Mike talked about the job of the executive producer and Amanda talked about her time at RADA and some ofher previous roles she had before joining the show ('every girl's dream!').

"Before the question and answer session, the Executive Producer would like to say a few words," said the MC.

Mike stepped forward. "I thought I would make this announcement as I'm sure you are all on tenterhooks. As you know , Alan Eastman is leaving the show at the end of the current season and there has been the usual speculation and rumour about his replacement." He paused for dramatic effect.

Amanda could feel the audience hold its collective breath. "I can confirm that we have engaged the actor to play the thirteenth Doctor. Unfortunately, due to contractual reasons I am not able to reveal his name to you today." There was a collective groan, loud and long. Mike held up his hand. "However, you won't have to wait much longer. Just two days, in fact. There will be an announcement on Monday."

There was a smattering of applause as he sat down, followed by an excited buzz amongst the audience.

"Thank you, Mike." said the MC. "Now, its over to the audience for questions."

A forest of hands shot up and the MC indicated a young teenage boy in the front row.

"This is for Amanda Clay..." he said. There was a moment's delay and he flushed red before blurting out, "Cor...you don't half look different from Kim Gideon!"

It got the biggest laugh of the afternoon.

.

The day dragged. After the panel Amanda sat, stifling yawns, through a couple of old black and white episodes from decades ago. She then spent a good hour in the gymnasium signing autographs, photos and even flesh!

She was also presented with a succession of 'Kim Gideon' action figures to sign as well as toys of other characters from the show such as the Skasis Childseer, the Sontarans and the Judoon.

Amanda's face was beginning to ache with the effort of maintaining a fixed smile when she bumped into Mike, as she took a quick breather in the reception area.

"Hard work, isn't it?" he said. "You look like you need a drink."

"I'm gasping," confirmed Amanda.

Mike glanced at his watch. "We'll be finished in half an hour. There's a hotel over the road with a nice quiet bar. The Majestic. See you there?"

"OK."

.

The bar at the Majestic hotel was indeed quiet. Not a fan in sight. Mike had found a secluded alcove and sat down opposite Amanda, putting a vodka and lime before her.

She took a grateful sip and they made some small talk for a while.

"Some of those kids were being charged £10 for an autographed photo, "said Amanda, as they discussed the merchandising.

Mike rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. "Kerching!" he said, smiling. "Got to earn a crust you know." He took a sip of his drink and glanced around to make sure they were alone.

"Actually, 'Mand, I wanted a quick word. Keep this under your hat but we've signed Phil Mason to play the Doctor next season."

Amanda frowned. "Sorry. I don't think I know him."

"You've seen the series '_Highwaymen_' ? He plays Danny in that."

"Oh yes, I know. He's a bit young isn't he?"

"Mm. Actually that brings me onto something else.." Mike fiddled with his glass and looked embarrassed. "Your contract is up for renewal at the end of this season. I've been in discussion with the bods on the 20th floor..."

"And you want a new young companion to go with your new young Doctor." Amanda knew how the game worked.

"Well, I wouldn't have put it like that myself..."

Amanda shrugged. "I was beginning to think we had taken Kim about as far as we could, anyway. I've got a couple of film offers I'm considering. Now's as good as time as any."

Mike puffed out his cheeks in relief. "If you're agreeable we'll write you out in Phil's first story. OK?"

Amanda inclined her head.

"Fine. I'll get on to your agent in the next few days and arrange the contract extension." Mike looked at Amanda over his glasses and chuckled. "You just wait until you see the death scene we've got planned!"

"Death scene?"

"Oh yes. Jennie and I agree that it'll give the new season a massive double-whammy in terms of publicity. A new Doctor AND a companion dying? The press will go mad! You don't mind do you?"

"Not at all." Amanda drained her drink. "Kill off Kim by all means. It's fine by me."

(End of Chapter 3)


	4. Shades of Reality

Chatoyance: Chapter 4:_ Shades of Reality_

The day had not gone well in studio.

Knowing that this was to be Alan Eastman's final scene as the Doctor, the studio was milling with extra visitors. Corporation bigwigs, the press, friends of friends, competition winners and so on.

There were flubs, fluffs and technical hitches which all added to the slightly manic feel. They were running very late.

But at last they got to the regeneration scene – much to Alan's loud relief.

"Right, " said the harassed-looking director. "Alan, Amanda; you are standing together on a mountain. Behind you, on the green screen we will be having the mother and father of a thunderstorm. Are you good to go?"

"For the past twelve months, mate." muttered Alan, sourly.

"Right. Quiet everybody! This is a take. Action!"

"But Doctor, you can't die. Don't leave me..."

"Sorry, Kim. The infection of the Cyberworm is too strong. I can't fight it any more. Not like this..." Alan turned away to look at the blank green-screen 'sky'. "But there is one last chance..." He threw back his head and stretched out his arms in the familiar crucifix pose. Amanda contributed a scream of anguish.

"OK, Alan. Hold it just a second and....CUT!"

There was a ripple of applause around the studio and Alan Eastman punched the air. "YES! It's off to the RSC for me !"

He surprised Amanda by giving her a quick peck on the cheek, shook hands with the director and a few of the crew and walked off the set without a backward glance.

"OK, everybody!" The director clapped his hands. "We've just got the final scene to shoot. Amanda, you stay in place please, love. Is Phil ready?"

Phil Mason, the surprise choice to play the thirteenth Doctor, was hustled into position by the AFM. He was dressed exactly as Alan Eastman had been, duffle-coat and all. He adopted the same pose, with his back to Amanda for the big reveal scene.

Such was the chaos of the day that Amanda hadn't even had the chance to meet Phil and say hello, so it really would be a big reveal for her, too.

"OK! Sorry for the rush but we need to get this in the can. Ready, Amanda? OK, Phil? Right, give it a moment for the regeneration effect to finish. Quiet everybody. Action!"

After a momentary pause Amanda whispered, "Doctor? Doctor? Is it you..?"

The actor's arms dropped slowly to his sides. "Yes, Kim. It's me."

He turned to face Amanda, who burst into a peal of surprised laughter.

Alan Eastman gazed down steadily at her.

"CUT! Christ, Amanda, we haven't got time! What's so funny?" The director's voice was shrill with stress.

Amanda pointed to Alan. "It's not my idea. It's Alan, of course. Good joke. Nice one."

"What do do you mean?"

She pointed again. "He's sneaked back on set..."

The director looked up at Alan, who was still in position. "Sorry, Phil. It's not in very good taste...she's normally more professional than this..."

"Look," said Amanda, hotly. "I've told you. It's not my fault! Have a go at Alan if you like..."

Alan Eastman took a few steps down the artificial incline of the mountain and stood in front of a bemused Amanda. "Don't worry," he said. "You're right, it's not your fault. None of it."

He put out his arms, palms up, in front of him.

"Take my hands," he said.

"Oh no...no, no, no, no, NO!" Mike Aster marched forward, shaking his head. "Stick to the script..."

Alan turned sharply and gave Mike such a withering look that the Executive Producer pulled up in his tracks.

"And you can shut up!" growled Alan, with a voice that seemed to come from his boots. "No more scripts!"

The two men looked at each other in the dead silence that had enveloped the studio. It seemed to last an eternity and you could almost smell the testosterone. But Mike finally looked away. He gave Amanda a wry, defeated grin then stalked off set and out through the studio doors, which banged behind him.

"Take my hands, please," said Alan, gently.

Amanda shrugged then did so, very aware of the silent crew and visitors looking on.

"Now. Say the word."

"What word?"

A smile, ever so tiny, played at the corner of Alan's lips. "Sontaran."

Was he pissed ? "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Humour me."

"You want me to say it in character? Snotaran. There, I've said it. Happy?"

She tried to pull her hands away but he held firm.

"No, not in character. I want to hear Amanda Clay say it."

She puffed out her cheeks. Why didn't somebody do something?

"Snotaran."

"Again, slowly."

"Snot-ar-an."

Amanda's eyes flickered at the realisation and a tingle danced in the pit of her stomach.

She was Amanda Clay for God's sake! RADA graduate. Twice Bafta-nominated actress...

But she couldn't say 'Sontaran'!

Alan's smile grew broader as the studio, the crew and the cameras melted into each other like chalk on a wet pavement. He started to laugh, delightedly.

Around them, reality bent.

They were in the eye of a roaring storm but they were serene. She felt very calm.

They were still holding hands at arms length when the chaos around them faded into the familiar hum of the Tardis control-room.

His eyes twinkled as she looked up into them.

"Welcome back, Kim," said the Doctor.

.

Despite her objections the Doctor had insisted that Kim take some time out to relax before they talked.

As she luxuriated in a hot, deep bath Kim turned things over in her mind and by the time she returned to the control room she thought that she had got it.

"Parallel Universe, " Kim said as the Doctor looked up from his controls. "I'm right, aren't I? A place where all this is some kind of fiction. A TV series."

The Doctor handed her a plate containing a bacon and egg sandwich and which was giving off, in Kim's considered opinion, the best aroma in _any_ universe.

"Good thinking. Wrong, but good," said the Doctor, as Kim took a massive bite.

"What then?" she managed, chewing. "Don't tell me it was all a dream..."

He smiled and shook his head. "What is the last thing you remember? Back in Warsaw?"

Kim swallowed. "The Uprising," she whispered. "I was in the warehouse on Podelski street. Trying to get back to the Tardis. The place was on fire. Full of smoke. I couldn't see. I called out for you. Outside there was the sound of gunfire. People screaming....it was horrible.."

The Doctor nodded. "Go on."

"Then I saw it. Through the smoke. In the corner. The Tardis. The door was open and I managed to get inside." Kim frowned. "There was a bright light..."

"It wasn't the Tardis, Kim. You were in the wrong building. It was his trap. A matrix generator."

"Whose trap?"

"An old acquaintance of mine. It's been a good while since I've seen him but he's always out there, scheming away."

"Who?"

"Can't you guess?"

"I wouldn't be asking, would I ?"

The Doctor chuckled."Typical of his arrogance and conceit. The showrunner. The Executive Producer. Mike Aster. M. Aster. _Master_."

"Master?"

"One of my own people. A maverick and trouble maker on a quite monumental scale. He created a reality and sucked you into it, using matrix technology brilliantly combined with block transfer calculation. He even managed to incorporate you physically into his world, as well as himself. Sheer genius. Except...."

"What?"

"Well, when he created his world he overlooked one thing. Your inability to say the word 'Sontaran'. That created a bridge back to reality. A very small bridge but it was there, nevertheless. It took me a while but eventually I was able to hack into his matrix using that bridge and fetch you back."

"How long is a while?"

"Oh, I think it was 1951 before I cracked it."

Kim spat out her sandwich. "Seven years!"

The Doctor nodded. "I set up in a little shop in Podolski Street. Repairing clocks and watches. Had quite a jolly time actually. I had to stay close to the nexus so that I could carry on hacking into the matrix via the Tardis systems."

Kim stared at him. "You did all that for me? Seven years? I'm not worth seven years..."

"Hey! Who invited the old Kim Gideon back ?"

Kim pushed away the frightened child, into the lock and key safety of her subconscious. "Thank you." she said. "For coming to get me."

"You're worth it."

There was a quiet moment.

"Why did he do it?"

"The Master? To get at me, via you I guess. We have a bit of a history. If you had ever fully become Amanda Clay, if they had killed off Kim Gideon, then I would have lost you forever."

"He could have just stabbed me in the back; blown my head off..."

The Doctor shook his head. "Not his style. Firstly this was an intellectual challenge. A joke of massive complexity. I told you he is a genius? It takes a genius to create a world like that."

"And secondly?"

"Secondly, he's as nutty as a bag of Brazils."

Kim laughed. "So where is he now?"

The Doctor waved his hand airily. "Out there. Somewhere. Frustrated. We'll have to be on our guard in future, Kim. That was just a calling card. An hors-d'oeuvre by his standards."

Kim finished her sandwich. Nervously she touched the Doctor's arm. He looked up from his controls.

"Doctor, there's something..."

"Yes?"

"This might sound bonkers. But this reality business. How do I know I'm back in reality? My reality?"

He regarded her for a moment. "That's not bonkers at all, Kim. It's a question that all sentient beings have to face at some time or other. One of these days we'll have to have a long discussion about the theory of Solipsism. I can't prove that this reality is any more valid than any other..."

He turned back to his controls.

"But maybe this will help..."

Chatoyance: Epilogue

It was a beautifully pastoral scene. The air was pure, the birds were singing in the trees and the sky was crystal clear.

The Doctor and Kim were standing in a lane, talking to a family of humanoid molluscs.

Antennae fluttered in their direction. "The festival of the Harvest is an important event in our cycle," said the tallest of the family group, in a fluting voice. "You are most welcome to attend and learn of our ways. Afterwards you could take refreshment at my family nest as our guests."

The Doctor inclined his head. "We would be honoured."

The creatures bowed slightly and moved slowly off down the lane.

"Peaceful. Gentle. Welcoming. All I have heard about the Quib is true."

Kim smiled. "So this is Quillan." She scanned the sky. "And no Sontarans?"

"On the other side of the Galaxy. Far too busy fighting wars to ever come here. Did you notice, Kim? You said 'Sontarans'"

"Sontarans. Son-tar-ans." Kim smiled. "Well what do you know! Let's hope I never have to say it again!"

They laughed.

The Doctor went to say something but hesitated. "Kim..."

"Yes?"

" What was it like? To be somebody else?"

THE END


End file.
